


Full Moon Friendship

by tansybells



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff and Humor, High School, Human/Monster Society, Werewolf Marianne von Edmund, were....dragon flayn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: In the days leading up to Marianne's full moon transformation, she can't shake the feeling that she's being watched. When her lycanthropic curse activates, however, her pursuer makes herself known—and she's almost more excited than Marianne can handle.
Relationships: Flayn/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28
Collections: Marianne Birthday 2020





	Full Moon Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> So [Quorn](https://twitter.com/quorniya?s=09) suggested I write Marianne/Flayn for [Marianne's Birthday Celebration,](https://twitter.com/celebratemari?s=09) and I just _had_ to do it, so here we are! Hope you enjoy!

Blood roars in her ears as Marianne tears through the woods. With each great, furred footfall against the leaf-strewn ground, she gets further and further away from her pursuer. The full moon casts eerie shadows across the forest floor, and each cracked twig, each rustled bush behind her only makes Marianne’s heart pound faster.

“Wait, Marianne, please cease running from me!”

Her schoolmate’s voice echoes through the forest, cutting through the cacophony of Marianne’s own heavy panting. Even so, Marianne can’t afford to stop running. How is Flayn managing to keep pace with her? Worse, how is she managing to _catch up_ to her? This is her worst nightmare brought to life.

“I promise, I harbor no ill will towards you! I only wish to speak to you regarding your true nature!”

Her true nature. _Her true nature._

Marianne had spent _so long_ —years, really—attempting to conceal that very thing that, even to hear Flayn _insinuate_ it chills her to the bone. And honestly, she doesn’t have any clue how Flayn found out about her lycanthropy in the first place!

All she knows is that earlier that week, she’d noticed someone… well, all she could really think was that someone was following her. And if they weren’t following her, then they were at least paying a ridiculous and unusual amount of attention to her. She hadn’t had any idea just who it was; she’d only caught their scent. And she hadn’t even noticed _that_ until two days before her impending transformation, when her human senses had started to catch up to the ones she had as a wolf.

Hilda had probably thought she was crazy, constantly looking over her shoulder as they walked through the hallways on their way from class to class. Lysithea _certainly_ had—and she’d made sure that Marianne was well aware of her opinion on the matter. But no matter how often her friends had told her that it was nothing, that she was probably only getting really anxious due to some upcoming test or project in class, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

And then yesterday, she’d been able to glance behind her quickly enough to catch a glimmer of green and a flash of frills, but their school was full of so many eclectic people and personalities that such an observation hadn’t been enough for Marianne to identify her stalker by itself. It had, however, been enough for Marianne to know for certain that she wasn’t going crazy, and once she convinced Hilda to give her the rundown on all of the people who could possibly fill those parameters, her mystery pursuer had been identified.

She’d never thought that it could have been the daughter of her history professor, of all people! Mr. Smith was somewhat infamous for his insistence on keeping his daughter away from most people, so she was something of a school mystery. A legend, perhaps. Rumor had it that Flayn was a sophomore, just a year beneath Marianne and her friends, but the rumor had been going around for long enough that she doesn’t know how true it actually is. All anyone knew was that Flayn spent her days in Mr. Smith’s office, and the only chance to even catch a glimpse of her was to arrive at their school ridiculously early, or hang around until it was almost nighttime.

That’s what Marianne had done, actually, in her attempts to determine whether Flayn had been following her or not, and it had turned out to be more of a mistake than even she could have anticipated. The sun had set earlier than her weather app had predicted, thus allowing the night’s full moon to rise earlier, and the uncontrollable howling that had ripped through the air at her transformation had been, in a word, impossible to ignore.

So obviously, because Fate hates Marianne with an undeserving vitriol, Flayn—who had left the school building before Mr. Smith himself—had caught sight of Marianne rushing, half-human, into the woods behind their building.

And, as Fate would thus dictate, Flayn had somehow managed to follow her. She follows her yet, really, with an inhuman persistence and speed that scares Marianne to her very core.

“Just leave me alone!” Marianne cries even as she hurtles through the underbrush, taking a few sharp turns in an attempt to lose Flayn. “This isn’t any of your business! I don’t even know you!”

“But I know who you are! What you are! If you could only let me—”

But Marianne doesn’t hear any more of Flayn’s wails, because as she tries to make another turn, she sets her forepaw down squarely on what must be a spot of squelching, decomposing foliage. Her entire weight, considerable as it is, slips out from under her, and she falls to the ground despite her desperate scrabble to regain her footing.

“Oh, no, Marianne!”

She slides along the gentle slope of the forest floor for a little while, panic overwhelming her rational mind in the moment of terror, until finally, she comes to a stop with the aid of a tree trunk.

She crashes into the tree with a humbling, canine yelp of pain. Her side, where she’d collided with the tree, hurts. Her everything hurts—but mostly her ribs. Cautiously, she rolls back onto her belly and staggers up to her feet, fully intending to try and lose Flayn once again, but her efforts are futile. Her head spinning, she can’t find the balance necessary to even take a step, much less stand on her own. She stumbles for a second, her side brushing up against the tree for support, and then her legs fall out from under her again and she’s left to lay there on the ground, prone and panting in fear.

The glen that she’s landed in isn’t one that she’s encountered before, but Flayn, to her horror, still manages to find her, despite her fall. Not that it’s much of a feat, really—now that she looks back at where she came from, there’s a distinctively wolf-sized skid mark along the ground where she slid. Pain blurs Marianne’s vision as she looks up to see the same glimmer of green that she’d caught sight of ages ago, but instead of mystery to accompany the color, she sees a kind, heart-shaped face set with emerald eyes.

Rosebud lips part as Flayn says something, but the static in Marianne’s sensitive ears drown her out. Now that Flayn is close enough, though, Marianne can smell her fully, drink down the mysterious scent that’s been haunting her for the past week. It’s a sweet smell, like sugar and rose petals, but it overlays a musty scent that Marianne can only describe as _antique._

Out of the corner of her vision, something moves. Marianne instinctively turns her head to snap at it; she doesn’t want anything, any _one_ touching the soreness of her ribs, and Flayn draws back her hands with an affronted scowl.

One hand set firmly on her hip, Flayn shakes her finger towards Marianne. “…do such a thing!”

“W-what?” Marianne asks, shaking her head to rid her ears of the remaining aural fuzz before squinting towards Flayn. The other girl is kneeling at her side, even as she scolds Marianne, but the frustration that had contorted her expression fades away.

“I said, Marianne, that even though you are hurting, it is only a truly feral beast that would do such a thing! Please, consider that I am trying to assist you in this moment, and do not snap at me again. I do not think I would be allowed to see you again, should I come to harm.”

“I, um…” Marianne shakes her head again, like doing so will clear her mind enough that she can actually understand the situation she’s found herself in. To see her _again_? Why would Flayn assume that she wants such a thing, especially after being followed for a week, chased through the woods, and hunted down like a rabbit? But Flayn doesn’t seem to notice her disconcertment, or if she does, she’s too excited to really register it.

“Oh! I should introduce myself.” Flayn claps her hands together. Her green curls bounce as she tilts her head to the side with a wide smile. Marianne doesn’t attempt to return the expression. “I am Flayn! Flayn, uh, Smith! My father is one of your professors, so I am told.”

“Y-yes.” Marianne shrinks in on herself. Even though she feels compelled to shift her gaze away in the face of Flayn’s exuberance, something about Flayn herself makes it nearly impossible to do. “He’s, um, he’s my history teacher.”

“Yes! Precisely!” Flayn giggles and hides her face behind her hands. “So, when he came back from class and I smelled another shifter on him, I only had to look at the roster for his most recent classes! I believe I have become more proficient with the computer than he is, after all, and it was a simple matter of—”

Marianne stares at Flayn, her lower jaw hanging down. “What do you mean?” she asks, confused. “You _smelled_ me?”

Flayn blinks owlishly, then breaks into another giggle. “Of course! It is simple to recognize once you have been around for long enough to know what to smell for.” Her laughter fades away awkwardly, and then she looks at Marianne with concern.

“Did you not know we were here?” she asks, and Marianne shakes her head. “Well, I suppose that would make sense. I shall have to introduce you to the rest of us here at the school, won’t I? It is a great relief to know that one is not alone, I have discovered, and I would love to have you join me and the other shifters!”

“What do you mean, other shifters?” Marianne blurts out. “There’s others? I’m not the only werewolf? _You’re_ a werewolf?”

Her eyes bright, Flayn shakes her head. “No, I am not a _werewolf._ What a preposterous thought.I am a _dragon_!”

Marianne can only watch as Flayn throws her hands out to either side of her, like she expects wings to dramatically unfurl from behind her, but nothing happens.

“Nothing’s happening,” Marianne whispers, her heart sinking unexpectedly. She doesn’t know what she was hoping for, but to see Flayn’s excitement ultimately pan out to nothing fills her with disappointment. Has Flayn been lying to her all along?

“No, no, wait—” Flayn holds her hands up to stop Marianne from getting up and leaving her. “Please, Marianne, wait for just a moment more!” Perhaps against her better judgement, Marianne stays right where she is.

Her patience is soon rewarded. With a flash of light that flares up in a circle around Flayn’s body and a scent of metallic magic that fills Marianne’s sensitive nose, Flayn disappears. Marianne hears none of the bones cracking or the pain muscles reforming that accompanies her own transformations, only a sigh of happiness and relief from within the circle.

Transformation seems to be a delight to Flayn, as opposed to the horror that it is for Marianne, and it leaves her head swimming. How could something so terrifying also be something that brings such joy?

The light of Flayn’s transformation dissipates to reveal the happiest dragon Marianne has ever seen. Well, Flayn is clearly the _only_ dragon she’s ever seen, but it’s obvious to Marianne that Flayn is just so overjoyed to be in what appears to be her original skin that she can’t rein her emotions in.

Despite being the size of a tree, Flayn bounces up and down repeatedly. Her tail, long and scaled and tipped in surprisingly aquatic fins, swishes around behind her. Wisps of smoke rise into the air from the end of her snout as she bobs her draconic head around, much like Flayn had been doing when she’d been human.

But when Flayn turns to look at her, joy emanating from her without constraint, and those emerald-green eyes shine out at her once again, Marianne feels her heart flutter. To think that she can be so _delighted_ by a transformation that curses Marianne is something that she can’t even begin to wrap her mind around, but the fact of the matter is that Flayn looks as though she’s finally, finally in the skin that she was always meant to inhabit.

“See?” Flayn chirps. She cranes her lengthy neck to nuzzle her snout against the side of Marianne’s head. “I am just the same as you, Marianne!”

And for some reason, that single, simple phrase is enough to nearly bring Marianne to tears. But wolves can’t cry, meaning that Marianne can’t either. She instead elects to lean her head in to reciprocate the simple affection that Flayn so easily extends to her, as a quiet whimper rumbles through her chest.

“Oh, no, Marianne, are you alright?” Flayn collapses to the ground beside her, and she begins nuzzling Marianne all over. Marianne rolls her shoulders at the extensive, thorough touch. No one has ever touched her in her lycanthropic form, so the feeling of someone brushing through her fur—even with a draconic snout—is foreign to her. At the same time, though, it’s pleasant in a way that she couldn’t have expected.

“Are you hurt? I did not intend to harm you, I promise! Do you have an intolerance to magic? That is something that can happen, I do believe—I have not experienced it myself, but Father assures me that such a thing can happen, which is why I refrain from making use of such abilities while on school grounds.”

“No, you’re okay. I’m okay.” Marianne takes a deep breath and adjusts her position slightly. “It’s just… it’s a lot. I didn’t know that there was anyone out there, um, like me.” She lowers her head down to rest it on her forepaws. “It’s overwhelming.”

Flayn, in an action that is surprisingly doglike for a dragon, rolls onto her side to press up against Marianne’s. “That is perfectly alright,” she says simply, and her voice is like an ice pack against a pulled muscle. “You are not alone in this any longer. I shall be by your side, if you allow me to be.”

“If that’s okay with you,” Marianne whispers.

“Of course.”

The moment between them is interrupted by a rush of wind, a flurry of dust and leaves and debris kicking up around them, and with a groan of disgust, Flayn scrambles to get up.

“Oh, no,” she says, “we have been found! Marianne, hurry—to your feet!”

“Found?” Marianne asks, even as she slowly pushes herself up into a standing position. “Um, Flayn, what are you—”

A shadow passes over the moon. Marianne looks up to see a dragon, similar to Flayn but _so_ much bigger, flying through the air and coming closer and closer until it lands on the ground. The forest floor shakes beneath her as the dragon’s taloned feet hit the ground. There’s another rush of magical energy beside her, and Marianne turns to see that in the blink of an eye, Flayn has adopted her human form again.

“It is my father,” Flayn says with a sigh. Marianne can _feel_ his anger, his frustration, but she can’t tell whether it’s directed towards her or towards Flayn.

Her question is soon answered as the dragon growls, “What do you think you have been doing, Flayn, transforming so brazenly?”

“I was speaking with another shifter!” Flayn exclaims, gesturing towards Marianne. “I had to prove to her that I was not providing her with falsehoods! And it is not as though you can be upset with me, Father, for are you not transformed yourself at this very moment?”

“Only because I felt the use of your magic,” Mr. Smith retorts, to which Flayn groans.

“I judged it was necessary to show her, Father! Do you not see how scared she is?”

Mr. Smith’s attention flickers towards Marianne, briefly, but he just sighs.

“It, um, she was very helpful,” Marianne stammers out, even as she struggles to stand her ground. “I thought I was alone, so knowing that I’m not, uh, it helps. I feel a little bit better.”

Mr. Smith doesn’t say anything, his attention focused solely on his daughter.

“Flayn. Come here.”

With another groan, Flayn slumps her shoulders and slinks towards where her father insistently waits for her. As soon as she’s close enough to stand between his massive forepaws, she turns around to face Marianne.

The dragon cranes his serpentine neck down towards the back of Flayn’s head, where he catches the back of her collar in his mouth and lifts her from the ground. Flayn’s expression, perturbed as she is, isn’t surprised at all, and Marianne finds herself giggling at the insane situation she’s facing. This has clearly happened before.

 _Call me!_ Flayn mouths, lifting her hand with her pinky and thumb extended, and holding it up to her ear even as she dangles helplessly from the giant dragon’s mouth. And then something dawns on her, and she writhes around in her father’s grasp. “Wait! Father! I need to speak with her—”

“If you think you are going to be doing _anything interesting_ for the next week,” Mr. Smith growls through his teeth, “I must inform you just how incorrect you are. You shall go to school, and home, and that shall be all.”

“Father!” Flayn wails, reaching out for Marianne as though she—in her lycanthropic form—can somehow save her from whatever fate awaits. Her eyes wide with sympathy, Marianne just shakes her head. She may be large for a wolf, but even she is aware enough to know when she doesn’t have a chance.

Flayn wriggles around more, even as she swings back and forth mid-air. “I have not yet given her my phone number so that she may call me! I forgot! How else are we to communicate?”

“Communication will have to wait until you see her at school on Monday.” Mr. Smith levels his eyes down at Marianne, and she feels herself instinctively shrinking away from his attention. A fire, ancient and formidable, burns behind his intensely green gaze, and generations of wolves before her caution her against acting impulsively. “You _will_ be at school on Monday, correct, Miss Edmund?”

Her ears swiveling back to press against her skull, Marianne ducks her head down in a nod. “Y-yes, Mr. Smith,” she stammers out. “See you, um, on Monday.”

“Good.” Mr. Smith huffs in satisfaction. Marianne marvels as twin plumes of smoke trail up into the sky from his nostrils. Flayn groans, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest. “You may have a day’s extension on the weekend’s homework, due to…”

Marianne shudders as those sharp eyes rove over her, calculating.

“…extenuating circumstances, we shall say.”

Mr. Smith unfurls his wings from his sides, obscuring Marianne’s view of the evening stars above as he spreads them out to their full breadth. With a powerful inhalation, he lifts his wings high into the sky and brings them down with a force that sends the debris and dirt on the ground swirling up around them. Each progressive beating of his wings lifts him higher and higher up into the air, and he brings his daughter up with him.

“I shall see you on Monday, Marianne!” Flayn shouts down; Marianne has to squint up into the air to see Flayn waving excitedly in her direction. “Please, do not let my father’s terrifying demeanor strike such fear into your heart that you no longer wish to associate with me!”

“If I am enough to scare her away, Flayn, then perhaps it is best the two of you do not associate in the first place.”

“ _Father_!” Even as the two of them disappear, the same ancient magic that Mr. Smith had used before veiling them from Marianne’s sight, she can hear Flayn’s affronted tone. Marianne cranes her neck, trying to follow their aerial path with her eyes. “You are single handedly responsible for my lack of companionship! I have no _doubt_ that if you were not so—”

Flayn’s complaints fade off into the distance. Marianne sets her haunches down on the ground with a quiet _huff._

There’s so much to wrap her mind around that she’s not quite sure where to begin. There’s one thing that she’s left certain of, though: however confusing her lycanthropic life may be now, she isn’t going to have to go through it alone any longer. She has a friend in Flayn, now, and that brings her a comfort that words can’t ever express.

**Author's Note:**

> flayn smells like a little old lady but in a good way lmao 
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/tansybells%22) I'd love to know what you thought of mariflayn. 
> 
> Have a lovely day!


End file.
